


Cui Bono

by FriedrichTheGreatsFineAss



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Historical, Historical Hetalia, I'm Sorry, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, but it aligns with history, i'm not actually sure this counts as historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriedrichTheGreatsFineAss/pseuds/FriedrichTheGreatsFineAss
Summary: "There's a tradition -- a traditional… ritual of sorts. If your country, your soldiers, win a battle, maybe they might take some land, you know. Well, it's supposed to be if you win the war. But we all, most of us did it after battles too. You and the other representative, you get to… take them."
Mathias tells the story of Berwald and their shared, troubled history.
[TW: nonexplicit noncon]





	

**Author's Note:**

> [words in brackets are background noises]  
> /words in slant are Norway in the background/  
> Words without either are Denmark!
> 
> Denmark = Mathias  
> Norway = Lukas  
> Sweden = Berwald  
> Iceland = Emil  
> Finland = Tino  
> Germany/Prussia = Ludwig/Gilbert

[The recording begins; the first several minutes are the sounds of static, and the faint noises of someone fidgeting with the recording device.]

Hello? Is it on?

/Yes Mathias, it's on. It's been on for a while./

Oh, shit. Haha, whoops! [A hearty laugh.] Guess I'm not catchin’ on to this new technology as well as the rest of ya.

/Do you still need me here? Or can I leave you to your lunacy?/ 

That's… yeah, go ahead. I've got it from here, ja. Tusind tak, Lukas.

[A door slams shut. An audible sigh, accompanied by a loud thump, like someone sitting down.]

How do I start? Right. Ok. I'm Mathias Køhler, representative of Kongeriget Danmark. It's December, 1976, and it's fucking freezing. Um. I've got some things to get off my chest. [Clears their throat.] Maybe I should have prepared a speech for this, or some shit.

Should I start by justifying what I'm trying to condemn? I can't really explain it without sounding like I'm justifying it. Ja, i don't mean it if I do. 

Ok, I'll stop -- I'll stop beating around the bush. There's a tradition -- a traditional… ritual of sorts. Between representatives, that is. If your country, your soldiers, win a battle, maybe they might take some land, you know. Well, it's supposed to be if you win the war. But we all, most of us did it after battles too. You and the other representative, you get to… take them. You rape them.

Generally it's a pretty quick ordeal. 20 minutes in the bedroom, more symbolic --power play, really -- than actual sexual gratification. And the loser just has to sit there and take it.

That was the old days. After World War II, during the Cold War, it mostly sizzled out. We modernized, we became ‘civilised’ call it what ye will.  
I can't say I haven't done it myself. Especially during the Viking ages, as a teen and all. England, Scotland, ya know. Neddy and I have banged, postwar, but that was mostly consensual, mostly just havin’ a good time. [A cough.]

Norway, too, of course, we've both done it out, but we didn't need to much. Mostly me an’ Berwald had it out for each other.  
[Another cough.]

Sorry, sorry. Think I might be gettin’ ill, ja. 

Anyways. Berwald. I guess… I guess he’s the one I’m here to talk about? Fuck, I don’t. I don’t know. Is it letting my fears win if I admit it’s him this is about? Is it letting myself down? I don’t know anymore. It’s about.

It’s about us.

Not in some romantic way, nej. Shit. Ok, I’m off topic.

So I don’t know when we first went to war. Or rather, I don’t remember. I’m pretty sure I won it though. We were both kiddies, I knew how to wield my battle-axe like a grown man, he was a fuckin’ ninja with his lil’ stick thing. But we were still kids. I was older than him, though, probably twelve in human years, he mighta been six or seven. Neither of us understood why this was happening, all I knew was that we were thrown in a room together, locked in, and the men outside sad that if I didn’t fuck him, they were gonna fuck both of us.

Shit. Ok. I’m really. [A deep sigh, and a deep breath.]

I was old enough to know what I was supposed to do. Kids these days, they don’t really have sex until sixteen or something, ja? Girls in those days, they were married off at twelve, maybe. Boys a little older, yeah, but we still knew how it went. A lot of my human friends got to visit a brothel for their twelfth birthdays, the leaders’ sons and whatnot. I knew what I was supposed to do.

But that didn’t mean it felt right. We’re not biologically brothers. I don’t think you can call us brothers in the actually sense of the word. But we had been raised as brothers, and he was so young, and if it weren’t the fact that it was me on him or several men on the both of us, I wouldn’t have ever done it. 

Shit, Berwald, I’m so sorry. A thousand years later, and I’m so sorry.

Ah well. Undskyld. Berwald got me back not much later. We aged pretty rapidly for a period, and suddenly he was pinning me up against a wall and he might have been nine? And I might have been, like, sixteen? Well, I was at least a hundred already, but physically.   
And he pushes me against the wall. He says, he said something along the lines of “I’m stronger than you. My leaders, they say this will prove I’m stronger than you, dirty ergi.” 

[Hoarse laughter.]

Yeah, he was a bit wordier in those day. I remember he called me ergi, and I was so offended. If it weren’t for the fact that my nation had lost, and that I was paying the price, I woulda knocked him right there.

Anyways. 

For the most part, in the beginning, it was just the tradition. We fought so much. [More laughter.] Don’t we hold the record for the most wars between us worldwide? More than France and England. And sometimes I’d win, and sometimes he’d win. It was just something we had to do.

And then sometimes he’d win, and then sometimes he’d win, and then sometimes he’d win and Denmark would have a losing streak for several decades and it, just.

It was, it started, I think it started right after the dissolution of the Kalmar Union. 1523 or something. And these things don’t take long. He hadn’t taken longer than half an hour before. 

Odin save me, he took a good four hours that night. And then shoved me out the door completely naked. The next time I lost, he had a scarecrow with the uniform he stole from me out front. 

It got worse from there. I had kind of stopped with the ritual. You know. I’d started a committed relationship with Lukas, in the 1300s, I wanted to be monogamous. My people would approved and whatnot. Christian morals. I played pranks instead, I lit his house on fire once? Demanded all of the butter in his house once, made him sculpt it into a statue of Lukas. God, I loved that man. Still do, but it’s not reciprocated anymore, I don’t think. 

Was it ever, really?

Anyways. He’d keep me there for hours, tell me I couldn’t resist. And I’m a strong guy. [A slight sniffle.] I am. If anyone else just came up, told me I had no right to say no, I’d probably kill them right then and there.

But with Berwald, I couldn’t stop him. It was like, I was so conditioned to losing, to submitting to him, that when he started coming over during times of peace, what was I to do?

I fought back, of course. In the beginning, when he first came over, I grabbed my battle axe and swang. And he caught the shaft with his bare hand. That must have fucking hurt. Man, looking back, I’m honestly astonished that he didn’t show pain, but at the time, ja, I was stunned with fright. My own brother seemed a stranger, a bear looming over me, a god, and just like that, I had lost my own war before I even got to fight. I was -- I was in shock, frozen, the whole time he grabbed me and carried me to my own bedroom and --

After that I stopped fighting. I tried to run, make it to my bedroom or my bathroom and lock the door -- damn, I’ve had at least six doors replaced because he broke them down. And then I tried to run for the backdoor, just once, and when I opened it, Russia was blocking my goddamn path, he paid off fucking Russia for God knows how long, or maybe Russia was willing to do it for free as long as he got a piece of the action, because he scooped me up by my waist and carried me upstairs, and that… god, that might have been the second worst night.

When he did genuinely win a war, he’d do more than fuck me. He’d bring me to his house, for a week or so. A full month MIA, one time. Fuck me at night. Make me bake during the day, it was the weirdest shit. Did you know he really loves weinerbrød? The bread of my own peoples. When I refused to bake at first, he’d fuck me right in the kitchen. If I baked something he didn’t like, he’d shove my face in the pastries and hold me down there as he did it. If they were good, he’d fuck me in the bedroom. If he really liked them, he’d wait several hours, and leave off the kinky shit.

And I’m not sure if Berwald’s genuinely kinky, or if he got off to torturing me, or if he was just caught up in the excitement. But gradually he started adding in more shit -- gags, ropes, a few whips. Plugs, tails, collars, knives, candles, do I need to go into specifics? I shouldn’t go into specifics, røv, sorry. Something new each month, for years. Decades. A century?

I’m not sure just when it all started, but it all ended… 1814, I believe. The treaty of Kiel, yeah. Ja. Norway was ceded to Sweden. He took us both to his house that night, locked Lukas into his room, and took me on the door. Well, first he shoved about a thousand dirty rags down my throat, and if he hadn’t trained the gag reflex outta me I mighta gagged to death. I think it was -- to intimidate Nor, Lukas, and to degrade me. And that was definitely the worst night. I won’t, ah, go into details. 

[A heavy, throaty cough.]

No, ah, details, ja, but he. Uh. Let’s just, well, let’s just say he. That he -- and I -- there was. Ha. There’s some things that should not be shoved up someone’s ass. I am. Experienced. In that manner.

Experienced, ha.

And I couldn’t scream. Usually he at least let me whimper or moan or whatever, but this time there were so many layers of cloth that I couldn’t make any noise. For hours, trapped between the door and him, blocked from my love who was no longer mine. 

He locked me in the basement that night, and when he dragged me out the next morning, made me wear a collar and a skirt, Lukas wouldn’t look at me. Shot dirty glances in our direction. It scared the shit out of me. I was worried that he thought I was a whore, a dirty whore who wanted this, an unfaithful whore. 

[The speaker blows their nose.] Sorry, not sure where these tears came from. So ja, ja. Now I don’t think that was the case, because that night, down in the cellar, I heard shouting, not what was being said though. And the next morning he kicked me out, no explanation, not a single word. And I wouldn’t hear from him or Lu until over a year later. I returned to Emil that night, completely broken. And he could tell.

Emil calls us up once a week, it’s really nice. A nice boy. He really is the best country in the world, both personality-wise and literally. The greatest son I could have had. 

And I never received an apology or anything, but whenever we lost a skirmish, he’d just return me home after negotiations. Wouldn’t touch me or anything. 

And during World War II. Ludwig’s a wonderful kid too. He was forced to do everything. Made sure Lu and I were locked up together, we weren’t lonely or starved. Still fucked us both, though. His commander's’ orders. Gilbert didn’t mind helping out as much.

And after it all, Berwald took us both to his house, and took care of us, didn’t do a thing. I think -- I think he realized how much of an asshole he was. Can I say he was an asshole? I feel like that’s simplifying things. Huh.

Tino helped a lot too, bless his soul. Never committed a sin in his life, risen above his struggles. 

This is the part where I forgive Berwald, right? Let go of all of that internalized hate? Isn’t that part of the whole twisted therapy this is supposed to be?   
I don’t. Really. Hate him. I don’t think I ever did. I think it was mostly fear, and that’s dissipated. Berwald’s like a real brother now, albeit a little quiet. Yeah.

What else do I need to say? I mean, I’ve never told anyone. I bet he hasn’t. Russia either doesn’t care or doesn’t know the whole story. Lukas knows summat, but not all of it. Emil’s clueless, other than knowing somethin’ happened. 

Really, it’s just me and this recording. 

LUKAS? YOU THERE?   
I doubt he can hear me. Um.

[The door opens.]

/Mathias. I’m… so sorry./  
Oh, you heard. Ha.   
/I didn’t mean to pry. What happened. It wasn’t fair to you./  
No, but that’s life. And I’ve lived enough for several lives of pure agony. It’s. Fine.  
/Come here, you big idiot./  
Lu--? Ok, hug. Right. Thank you for everything. I love you.  
/Mathias… I love you too. I never stopped./  
[The recording comes to an end.]

**Author's Note:**

> Hej hej!  
> I don't condone rape in any way, shape or form.  
> This is a quick drabble I came up with at random, and now it gets to be my first archive ^^;;  
> Yes, it's meant to be super disjointed :P  
> Please tell me about any errors! English is not my first language and I would like to catch all errors!
> 
> Everyone writes Denmark as this evil asshole in his younger years and up until present day -- and I just don't see that. If we're talking historically and not at all Hetalia canon -- I can kind of get it. Denmark as a country has done some shitty things, especially to Norway and Sweden. Sweden has done lots of horrible things to both, and to Finland! Almost as much, if not more, than Denmark has to Norway! So why is it that Denmark gets all the abusive traits, when countries like England/UK get jackshit? Like if anything, fifty percent of historical UK fics should be Arthur being a gigantic, abusive asshole to everyone ever. But instead, people like writing Denmark as the jerk, for some reason. Maybe because they like Norway or Sweden or Iceland better or something, and like to put Denmark down?  
> Or maybe I'm just a salty Dane myself ^^;;
> 
> Sorry for ranting! Thank you for reading my disgusting, sinful, twisted fanfic! You're all lovely people!


End file.
